Billy Barcroft R N As PDF Download

"I'm secretary of the Tarleigh and Blackberry Cross Golf Club," he explained. "Entwistle—Philip Entwistle—is my name. By profession I am what is commonly known as a vet. It's our Annual General Meeting, and I'm due there at eight." "'Fraid it will have to stop at the due," said Mr. Barcroft grimly. "It's 7.30 already." "You'll be all right," continued Entwistle. "There's a train back from Windyhill at 10.5, You're a stranger to the district?" "Fairly so," admitted Peter. "I've take Ladybird Fold for three years." "Your name doesn't happen to be Norton—Andrew Norton?" "No," was the reply. "Barcroft's my name. I know Norton. He's a newcomer. Only been here a week, I believe; and in that time he's frozen on to me. Kind of companionship in a strange land, so to speak. He seems a very decent sort; in fact, I rather like him. He's my nearest neighbour and he lives at least half a mile from Ladybird Fold." "What is he?" asked Entwistle. "Independent?" "So I should imagine. He has plenty of time on his hands, and spends a good part of it with me, except when I have to choke him off. He'll be sitting in my study when I get home, for a dead cert. Already he's made it a practice of looking me up at ten o'clock of an evening, after I've knocked off. You see," he added apologetically. "I have to work."